


30. Recovery

by titC



Series: (Don't) Hold Me [3]
Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Gen, M/M, just a bit of violence, mild injuries (for them), whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2020-11-22 22:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20882045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/titC/pseuds/titC
Summary: Frank doesn't show up, so Curt calls Frank's lawyer. You know, the blind guy.





	30. Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [Whumptober](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) for organizing it and [PixelByPixel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/) for the beta!  
Follows [16\. Pinned Down](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20691023) & [20\. Trembling.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20734541)

Matt only checked his phone after his lunch with Maggie. He’d turned it off for Mass and their weekly get together: one that wasn’t all about stitches, berating him for having no sense of self-preservation, and middle-of-the-night hot toddies. On Sundays, they met in broad daylight and talked about God, her work at the orphanage (which often led to teasing reminders of his own time there), Nelson and Murdock’s latest win, and sometimes his father.

He was in a pretty good mood when he turned it back on and heard he had a message, but his good mood didn’t last once he’d listened to it.

“Hi, this is – I’m Curtis Hoyle. Frank said you’re his lawyer, which… well, I didn’t even know he _had_ a lawyer. Anyway, he said to call you if something happened to him. I’m assuming you know about what he does. He went after a gang last night, one that hires kids as mules; they’re based somewhere in the Bronx. I don’t know more than that. We were supposed to meet today and he didn’t show up. Let me know if you hear anything, alright? You can call that number.”

Curtis Hoyle. Frank had mentioned a Curt a few times; he was a friend from his time in the Marines. Not that Frank would use the word ‘friend,’ but Matt could read between the lines. Frank wasn’t picking up his phone when he tried calling, so Matt hurried home and considered his options.

Ten minutes later he was out again, without his batons or ropes but with his mask in a coat pocket. He added a baseball cap, cheap dark glasses, and his cane to distract from the heavy combat boots that might clash with the harmless look he was going for. Foggy had said he’d looked small and almost unrecognizable in that getup, and that was definitely what he was going for.

Operation Recover Frank was a go.

The Bronx, Curt had said. He remembered Frank saying something about a job there, and that since he lived in that borough it was his to deal with. Matt went first to Frank’s place, a small two-room apartment he hadn’t visited too often but where he hoped to find more clues about where Frank had gone.

He used the spare key Frank left under a broken floorboard in the corridor (why he felt justified in mocking Matt’s choice of ‘behind the radiator’ as a hiding spot escaped Matt) and let himself in. Nothing felt strange or different. Frank wasn’t there, and there were no worrying smells like blood or gunpowder residue. It didn’t feel like anyone else had been here either; everything was in its usual place, down to Frank’s coffee mug in the sink.

He found Frank’s old laptop and some papers, but he couldn't do much with them. He needed a clue, something to point him in the right direction; the Bronx was too big for Matt to just walk around and hope for the best. Besides, he wasn’t that familiar with it, not like he was with Manhattan; that made him a bit more cautious. He had a general idea of what was happening there, but – oh. He wasn’t that far from Harlem; maybe Luke would know something.

“Who is this?” It didn’t sound like it was the best time to call, but if Frank was injured…

“Hey, it’s me, uh, Matt. I’m calling from a burner.”

“Matt? You hardly ever call, man. Do you need something?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m looking for a friend, thought you might know something.”

“What kind of friend? The kind that goes after trouble? The kind that _is_ trouble?”

Both, to be fair, but Matt chose to keep that to himself. “Well, he's probably _in_ trouble. Went after a gang that uses kids to transport drugs and money, based in the Bronx. It’s not my area but you’re closer, thought you might know something.”

“He went after… I have to ask again: what kind of friend?”

“You’re one to talk, Luke.”

There was an amused huff on the other side of the conversation. “Yeah, point. Look, there’s this one gang I drove out of Harlem a couple of months ago; I know they set up shop a bit further north. It’s out of my territory, so I didn’t go after them. Think they got your friend?”

“I don’t know. It’s a lead, so that’s better than what I had before.”

“Look, you need help? I shouldn’t have let them rebuild, so if your friend’s hurt it’s on me. I’ll just drive to where you are and pick you up, alright?”

“I…” Matt wanted to say no; he wanted to say he didn’t need anyone. But he knew what the smart answer was. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Luke.” He gave him the address and waited.

Once Luke got there, he gave a quick look at the files and confirmed the newspaper articles Frank had collected were indeed about the same people he’d kicked out of Harlem.

“They were already doing that exact same thing. They’re nasty, Matt. Real nasty. I gave a few phone calls, I think I have an idea of where they might be hiding out. Put on your gear, we’re going.”

“My gear?”

“Your fancy suit, the batons? I know I’ve seen in the news that you were all in black now, but you can’t be doing your thing with just what you’re wearing now.”

Matt fished his mask out of his coat. “No, I hide my face too.” Luke radiated disapproval. “What?”

“You’re not bulletproof.”

“But you are, and you’re coming with. Right?”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

Matt smiled. Yeah, he knew.

They were standing in front of a bar, mostly quiet in the middle of the afternoon but from which the stale smell of old, spilled beer emanated. Luke stood still next to him, tall and wide and unmovable like a slab of granite. “Okay, this is it,” he said.

Matt wrinkled his nose and sighed. “You go in from the front, I’ll find the back entrance.”

“Suit yourself. You’ll hear me if I whisper anything for you?”

“Yeah, I should.”

Matt folded his cane and stashed it under abandoned cardboard boxes lying nearby, along with his coat, cap, and glasses. He found a small passage between two buildings and kept an ear on Luke going in and ordering a beer at the bar while he tried all the doors he could find, but none budged. Inside, Luke tried to strike up a conversation with the bartender, but they didn’t seem inclined to chat or cooperate, just like the doors. Fine. He tuned Luke out for a moment and focused on the noises in and around the building. He’d picked up no sign of Frank yet; dog smells and a bit of blood, sweat and a lot of booze, a few heartbeats that he didn’t recognize apart from Luke’s… But there, two floors up: it sounded like an open window. Bingo.

He jumped on a dumpster, and from there caught the bottom rung of the fire escape’s landing. It was quick work to get close to the open window; he threw himself at it and hoped he’d catch the window ledge.

He did. He was in.

The inside wasn’t much more inspiring than the outside. The floor Matt ended on was empty, and from what he could tell was mostly offices. It smelled like paper and buzzed like electronics, and so he made his way further in. The upper floors seemed to be more of the same, so he found a staircase and got down to the… second floor, he decided.

Luke was still drinking his beer right under Matt, playing the part of a guy checking out his new neighborhood and asking for tips. The bartender was as monosyllabic as before, but Luke was patient. Matt explored the floor, and there wasn’t anything of note there either – more papers, more computers; no obvious piles of drugs and no prisoner.

He had to find a way that led him down to the first floor without anyone at the bar spotting him, but the stairs he’d just used landed very near the bar and that didn’t seem the wisest option. He found a second staircase on the other side, however; one that ended in what seemed to be a storage room. Bottles, crates, kegs; nothing too strange. What was strange, however, was the way his footsteps echoed differently on a bit of floor. He walked over it again, and yes – there was a trapdoor of some kind under a tarp. It ran under several large boxes, but once he felt behind them Matt realized there was absolutely no dust; the tarp was new. He needed a knife.

He searched near the boxes hoping to find a cutter, and he quickly hit paydirt. It was a heavy duty one, and it went through the tarp like it was nothing. Matt felt for the trapdoor handle, pulled it open, and was assaulted by sounds and smells drifting up from underground.

Drugs first, different kinds; plus a bunch of chemicals. There was a lab down there. Blood, too. Several people, and among them – Frank. Frank was down there, and he was alive; Matt could isolate his heartbeat from all the others. It took him a couple of seconds to sort through what his senses told him, but it was enough for the people down there to realize they’d been found. Matt gripped the cutter in one fist, and he jumped in.

His entrance caused some disruption, and Matt grinned as he kicked and punched and dislocated joints as he went. They were armed, but he dodged them all until he got near his first objective: the circuit breaker, humming with the electricity coursing through it. As soon as he was close he pulled the handle down and cut off the wires he could feel around it, and from the yells it was now pitch black. Well, that was what you got when you had an underground hideout and pissed off the devil.

“Red, what are you doing here?” It was only a whisper, but Matt heard Frank loud and clear. Frank sounded exhausted, and something was rattling a bit in his chest. Not good; he had to get him out.

“Did you start without me?” That was Luke, coming down to join him. “Aw, damn.” He was probably not too happy about not seeing anything, but Matt didn’t worry too much; these goons didn’t have anything that would harm Luke.

He had one goal now, and it was Frank. He focused on Frank, and worked to get closer to him. Matt threw a heavy wrench at a guy’s hip and smiled a little at the sound of bone crunching; this one wouldn’t bother anybody for a while. Kick, jump, throw, punch, dodge… they couldn't see him coming, they didn’t dare use guns in the dark, and he was enjoying it – enjoying the fight. Enjoying the adrenaline, the giddiness that came with landing the perfect punch every single time. Frank was right there, and the guys standing between him and Matt didn’t stand a chance.

And finally he _was_ there, kneeling by Frank’s side. Frank was leaning against piles of wooden crates, his hands and feet bound together.

“Hey,” Matt said as he started cutting through the ropes.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Aw, and to think I’ve come here for you.”

“Guys?” That was Luke.

“Yeah, we’re right ahead of you,” Matt yelled back. “You alright?” he asked more quietly.

Frank grunted. “I’m fine. Did you bring someone along?”

“I did.” There, Frank was free.

“I’ll just turn my phone light on, all right?” Luke said. “I’m making sure those guys aren’t going to be a problem.” There was an _oomph! _and the sound of groaning bodies being moved; from what Matt could hear Luke was using duct-tape. “Oh, nice. Found a Maglite!”

More footsteps, then Luke was right behind Matt. “Wow, so that’s the friend? Frank Castle himself?” He whistled. “Man, you have a thing for deranged and dangerous.”

“That’s me,” Frank said. “Deranged and dangerous. What’s it to _you_?”

“Didn’t know you were… friends.”

Frank was about to speak, but Matt put a hand on his arm. “Not now. We should get you out first; you’re not doing so well. You broke your ankle, right? You can’t walk on that.” Matt wasn’t looking forward to carrying Frank up the ladder, but he’d find a way.

Luke pushed him to the side. “I’ll get him.”

“But…”

Matt never finished. He hadn't been paying attention to anything other than Frank and Luke; he’d missed the new people coming in through the trapdoor. They were in the basement too, now, and shit – they were shooting. They must have brought a source of light because they were not hesitating, and if Luke hadn’t been there to stand between the bullets and them… He helped Frank to a corner where they would not be in the direct line of sight of the new goons, and Luke went on the offensive. It didn’t last long; he was good at this sort of thing, but right as he was turning back to join Matt and Frank one of the downed guys lobbed something and –

“Watch out!”

The crates started tumbling down and Matt threw himself over Frank, his blood turning cold.

Nothing fell on him. He heard it all crash around them, but… how?

“You guys alright?” Luke’s voice was coming from right above him.

“Yeah. Red?”

“I…” _Nothing had fallen on him_. Why?

“Your buddy’s kept the worst of it away from us. We’re good, Red. You with me?”

“What’s wrong?” Luke sounded worried. Why would he be worried?

“I…” He was supposed to say something, but what?

“Breathe. You’re good, we’re all good. No one’s hurt. We’re going to get out now, okay?”

Suddenly, something shifted and more stuff started to crash down around them. Matt hunched his shoulders and braced for impact but once again, nothing. There was nothing.

“It’s okay, it’s just your buddy shaking off what fell on him. He shielded us. He’s pretty strong, yeah?”

“Seriously, man, you hurt?” Luke. Who was Luke talking to?

“He just doesn’t like things falling on him. No one does, right?”

“He doesn’t – shit, I didn’t think. Midland – yeah.”

“I – I’m fine,” Matt finally managed. His chest felt too tight, but he was okay. He was functional. He was holding on. No one was hurt; they were good. They were good. “Let’s get out.”

“Fuck yeah,” Frank said, and soon enough they were in Luke’s car.

Matt still felt a little shaky from earlier and he kept a hand on the banister in the staircase of Frank’s building. He felt weak and stupid and he hated it, hated how his fingers wouldn't keep still. He gritted his teeth and climbed on while, right behind him, Luke carried Frank over his shoulders like he weighed nothing.

“So you know where he lives and leaves his spare key?”

“Problem?” Matt sat down on a rickety chair and hoped his relief didn’t show too much, while Luke laid Frank down on the worn sofa.

“No, I’m just… surprised?” Luke didn’t say anything when Matt joined him to run his hand over Frank’s face, his chest, then down to the ankle that sounded broken.

“He needs a medic.” He also had broken ribs and heavy bruising everywhere; they’d beaten him up.

Frank grunted. “I don’t need anyone.”

“I’m calling your friend Curt.”

“What?”

“He’s a medic, right?”

“I’ve got people too, if you’d rather.” Luke held out a hand. “Name’s Cage, by the way. Luke Cage.”

“Bulletproof guy?”

“Bulletproof guy.”

“Useful.”

Matt pulled his phone out and put in a call to Curt.

Curt’s first words were, “What the hell have you done to yourself?”

And Frank’s answer was, “Busted up their lab.”

So it started out well. Luke was staying in behind the kitchen counter, probably bemused at the scene. Curt kept grumbling at Frank, Frank kept ignoring anything that sounded like _Take better care of yourself, Frankie_, and Matt tried not to hover. Then, once he was done, Curt cleaned a cut on Matt’s side and rolled his eyes when Matt refused pain medication.

“Fine.” He started putting his things back in his kit and added, “You have interesting friends, for a lawyer.”

“Interesting?”

“They’re not just friends,” Luke said. _What?_ “Come on, Matt; _I’m_ not blind.”

“Frank, are you… him? Your _lawyer?_ That must be unethical, right?”

“Fuck you, Curt.”

“Well not _me_, as it stands.”

“This is not the point,” Matt said loudly.

“Kind of.” Luke sounded amused. “Daredevil and the Punisher, that’s quite the power couple, right?”

“Not a couple,” Matt ground out.

“_Daredevil_?” Oh, yeah. Curt hadn’t known. Well, now he did. “Fuck. I just – fuck.”

“Shit. I’m sorry I outed you.”

Matt shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“Well, I’m glad you got each other's back, at least.” Curt stood up. “I’m happy for you.”

Luke cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“I guess I’ll see you around then?” Curt asked Matt, holding his hand out.

“You’re leaving?”

“I’ve done what I could, and Frank needs to rest now. You too, probably.”

“I’m fine.”

“Damn, you sound just like him. God save me from your brand of assholes,” but Curt was smiling as he said it.

“If Castle is as prone to jumping to his death as Matt is, we’re doomed.”

“Hey.”

Frank huffed a little laugh. “They’re not wrong, Red.” And Frank was a _traitor_.

“_Hey!_”

“I got stories,” Luke said, “and I’m willing to share.”

“Oh, I’m in.”

After Curt and Luke left to gossip, Matt helped Frank clean up and hobble to his bed.

“You should have called me, not gone in on your own.”

“It worked out all right.”

“You’re going to be stuck here for weeks; how is that all right?”

“I didn’t need you.”

“Funny how we don’t seem to agree on that one.”

Frank sighed. “Look, I didn’t want… their lab was underground.”

“So?”

“I was planning on planting some C4 around, blow it up; but they had a few prisoners inside, junkies they kept to test their drugs on. They found me as I was getting them out.”

“I could have helped.”

“_Underground explosion_, Red. That was my plan. I didn’t want you around.”

“Why?”

“Red…”

Matt wanted to yell, to shake Frank, even to hit him. “I’m not useless!”

“I didn’t say that.”

“What are you saying, then?”

“You know what I’m saying.” Matt took a deep breath, but Frank cut him off before he could start. “No. Don’t.”

“It’s pity,” Matt snarled. “You _pity_ me.” He was furious, absolutely furious; he left the bed before the temptation to take it out on Frank won out. “Fuck you! Fuck you and your pity; I don’t want it. I don’t want you!”

“If you don’t acknowledge it, you’re letting it control you.”

“No.” Frank’s calm voice was making him even angrier. “There's no _it_!”

“Just… come here, yeah?”

“No!”

And Frank stood up. He left the bed, and he tried to walk, and Matt had to go and catch him and throw him back on the bed because Frank was an _idiot_. “What do you think you’re doing? You’re not supposed to walk on that leg!”

“It’s not a bad break.”

“It’s a _broken_ break!”

“It’ll heal, Red.”

“Not if you keep walking on it right away!”

“I’m not useless.”

“I didn’t say – fuck you. _Fuck you._”

“It’ll heal, okay?” Frank’s warm, dry fingers caught his and tugged gently until Matt sat next to him. “It can’t if you pretend it’s fine and keep making it worse.”

“I hate you.”

“You know, the guys I knew who… yeah. They got sent to the shrinks, they talked and talked. Sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn’t. You talk all the time, Red, but you never _say_ anything.”

“I’m not seeing a shrink.” He’d been thrown at enough of them after the accident and after his dad, and it had been pointless. He’d hated it then; he’d hate it now. He _wasn’t _going through that again.

“Just… give it time, okay? Give yourself a break.”

“It’s been more than a year.”

“That’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing.”

“Fuck’s sake, I still have nightmares about when my wife – my kids – I wake up and I’m still holding her, alright? I’m still holding her. How long has it been? How long has it been, Red?”

Matt didn’t know what he could answer, so he kept silent.

“But now it’s not every night. I remember the good parts too, you know? Just… yeah.”

They kept quiet for a while, their knees and their thighs and their hands touching, just breathing quietly together. But then Matt moved a little and felt Frank’s splint, remembered the break._ Not a bad break_, he’d said, and it was true; but it was still a break.

“You need crutches,” Matt said.

“I’ll manage.”

“I’ll go get you some.”

“You don't need to.”

“I want to.”

“Altar boy,” and Matt could hear the smile in Frank’s voice.

“You say that like it’s an insult.”

“Just bring back some food and I’ll forgive you for the crutches.”

“You’re an asshole, Frank.”

“Sure am,” but right after that Frank kissed him. It was a quick, matter-of-fact, stupid little peck of lips on dry lips and it was also the first time they’d ever done anything like that outside of their occasional dalliances.

“Uh.” Matt licked his lips. “So I’ll just. Go?”

“I can’t use the stairs, Red.”

“Right.” Yeah, not really, not without the crutches. Matt shook himself and finally untangled his fingers from Frank's before standing up. “Korean okay?” There was a good place not far.

“Sure.”

Matt managed to leave the bedroom and put on his glasses. He was opening the door, cane in hand, when Frank yelled, “And don't you dare flirt with Jee-hye!”

Matt smiled all the way to the CVS.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic of] Recovery](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24392029) by [Metaderivative](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metaderivative/pseuds/Metaderivative)


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